I did hesitate about copying over this bit of my diary as it felt such a difficult and emotional time when it happened. But when I reread the entry now it doesn't seem so bad and I can see some humour in it. And if I am going to do a blog I shouldn't edit out negative bits. So here we go...
So the feeding tube was fitted on Monday 8th April 2013 and it went fine (see previous entry).
It's now Tuesday 9th April. I'm doing OK. There is disappointingly some unexpectedly pain and stiffness now the morphine has worn off and I can't bend too much, but it is controllable with paracetamol. I spend a pleasant day reading, doing crosswords, listening to music, texting people. Under normal circumstances I would have been discharged today, but there is the big operation tomorrow to remove the tumour. Because I have such a long journey to the hospital which would have meant a very early start for me, it has been arranged that I will stay on at the hospital overnight. They think this will help me avoid stress and let me get a good night's sleep in readiness for the operation.
The only problem is that yesterday I was on a day surgery ward and now everyone else has gone home. I am missing their company, and when the night shift come on they ask me if I'd like to be moved to an observation ward where there are some ladies they think I'll get on well with. I say this is a wonderful idea.
The girls are great, very similar sort of personalities to me, and we instantly get on. They are so easy to talk to and I find them very supportive. As the evening goes on the ward is beginning to resemble some sort of schoolgirl sleepover. We are lounging on beds in our pyjamas giggling over things in magazines and on the internet. Two sneak out for a cigarette and nearly get caught. There is a late night feast. The nurses seem amused and I thank them for moving me. I'm having a great time!
Unfortunately as the night goes on the mood rapidly changes. Nobody can get to sleep and we unwisely embark on a sort of unofficial group therapy session. Soon we are all freely unburdening on the subject of things that get us down. There are some pretty heavy issues being discussed. I have soon moved on from the mice in my loft and my leaking gutters to it not being fair that I have cancer and I'm too young to die. I can feel myself descending into gloom and negativity. I haven't cried at all during my journey so far, which had surprised me as I am usually an emotional person. People have been telling me that my diagnosis hasn't sunk it properly and one day it's all going to hit me. Looks like it's happening now.
Morning comes and we are all upset. We've hardly slept. One of the girls has had an issue with a nurse and is demanding to see the Hospital Administrator, she's on about negligence and compensation. She wants to discharge herself. Another woman is equally upset. Something about her refusing to have a catheter fitted and she wants to be discharged too. A third woman is in floods of tears and we have no idea why.
My excuse for my reaction at the time is a mixture of things: I'm tired, I'm emotional, I'm frightened, I'm missing my husband, I've got bad period pains, I'm grumpy because I can't have breakfast, I don't want a catheter fitted either, or the new cannula they've said I'll be having. I can't cope with any of this **** anymore and before I know what I'm doing I'm joining the rebellion. I start getting dressed and packed. It seems completely rational to tearfully tell the nurse to prepare my discharge papers too.
